Lyla ghosted behind the group slow and silent, as the dwarves were marched through the massive doors following the path of the elf with the headdress, along a large walkway and past a large ornate iron portcullis, that reminded her of the branches of the beech trees outside, winding around itself in an intricate and deceptively delicate pattern.
Said portcullis slammed shut as Lyla walked past, startling the invisible hobbit who barely avoided being crushed, and a massive 'whoosh' of air blasted around Lyla at the force of the impact. She turned to find the large stone doors sealed shut as well.
She-and the rest of the company-were well and truly trapped inside the Elven halls.
Bother it all.
And, while that information certainly filled her with a sense of trepidation and foreboding, her astonishment grew as she took in her surroundings.
As she followed after the company, Lyla noted the polished walkways, arches and pillars of stone carved with detailed attention, making the stone appear very much like a forest of tall, proud trees undisturbed by time. Winding around these stone walkways and pillars, that stretched outward and upward in every direction, were large roots from the trees above this cavernous home, weaving through the space, connecting the stone and wood together in one harmonious combination of delicacy and power. Lyla noted many smaller beech trees dispersed throughout the hillsides within the Elven halls, as well as the pure and delicate waterfalls and rivers that flowed on either side of her and far beneath the stone and wood bridges.
She inhaled the fresh air gratefully (and quietly) and marveled at the small snatches of sunlight streaming through the ceiling of intertwined branches and stone that encapsulated the entire Elven settlement together. The unease she felt walking through the filth of Mirkwood slowly seeped from her pores, relieving her spirit and lifting her heart even as her throat burned with desire to quench her thirst in the crystal streams she spied.
The elves lead (and carried, for Bombur was still unconscious) their captives upward to a large stone platform atop of which sat an impressive wooden throne, adorned with enormous antlers on either side of the chair and long thin branches that twisted upwards. Leaves and white blossoms surrounded the entire structure, like a halo of earthen paradise, as soft light cast an ethereal glow around the Elf, who had greeted them at the door, and now stood and faced the company.
"It has been many years," The stoic elf murmured interlocking his long pale fingers together, "since I entertained the company of the dwarves."
Narrowed sapphire eyes swept over the blinded dwarves slowly as he studied the pitiful shape her company was in. The elf's gaze settled on Balin's form at the front of the line and with a nod of his head, the red haired elf woman removed Balin's blindfold.
"Tell me," the elf at the doors remarked lowly, gazing at Balin's bruised and wearied face, "What are you doing in these parts of my kingdom?"
Familiarity sparked in Balin's eyes as he gazed at the stoic creature before him, but the wizened dwarf said nothing, his lips remaining thin and pursed.
The Elvenking (for that is what he must be Lyla thought) tilted his head to the side, his gaze going thoughtful. He stepped forward a few paces. His gaze shifted until he was staring down his nose at Balin, a look of suspicion clouding his fair features.
"You refuse to explain why you've trespassed on my land? You refuse to oblige me this courtesy? Why? What have you to hide I wonder."
Balin still said nothing, though a scowl appeared on his face.
His response was clear, even without any words.
The elf king snorted, "You value your pride over comfort and safety I see. Very well," He turned to the golden haired dwarf who'd nearly struck Lyla from the tree (and she noted how similar they looked), "Escort our 'guests' to their chambers, Legolas, if you will," he murmured dismissively, his eyes hardened and he turned sharply on his heel and ascended to his throne.
The elf, Legolas, bowed his head quickly and then hastily retied the blindfold over Balin's eyes. With a quick jerk of his head, and silent as the grave, he urged the line of dwarves to start forward again, and through the enormous doors.
Lyla pressed herself against one of the closest pillars and waited until the company had passed by. She didn't want to expose herself by bumping into someone or something. She was determined to follow after her dwarves.
But the king's next word stopped her in her tracks.
"Bring me Master Oakenshield."
*****
"On your feet, dwarf."
Someone was pulling Thorin up from his straw bed, making him stumble blindly, fumbling to find his balance even with his hands bound.
He was pulled roughly by his wrists, and prodded forward with a hard jab to his back, making him grunt in pain.
*****
Lyla's heart caught in her throat has she watched Thorin Oakenshield paraded before her. Four different elves flanked either side of the dwarf, their weapons creating a carefully constructed cage as the dwarf king was being led up to the throne, bound and blindfolded, angry red welts on his wrists, hair in disarray with straw sticking in his long ebony tendrils.
Anger boiled hot in Lyla's veins as one of the elves shoved Thorin until the dwarf stumbled forward to his knees before the throne where the elf king was perched.
Soft sniggers escaped the two dark-haired guards who had escorted Thorin from wherever they had been keeping him. They smiled wickedly at one another, their features contorted in a angry, gleeful sneers.
Lyla's hands balled into fists and her eyes narrowed.
Those dirty rotten...!
"Where does your journey end I wonder," The king murmured as the blindfold was removed from Thorin's eyes.
The dwarf king stared contemptuously back at the elf king, his eyes blazing.
"You seek that which would bestow upon you the right to rule," The king continued on, as he rose to his feet and slowly stepped forward, towards Thorin's silent form, his eyes narrowed, "The quest to reclaim a homeland and slay a dragon. Is this not why you have come?"
Thorin remained stoic and silent, his eye betraying nothing.
"Speak dwarf. Why have you trespassed into my kingdom?"
Thorin raised his chin defiantly, eyes glittering with fury.
And remained silent.
The cracking of a pale hand against flesh sent Lyla reeling in horror. The elf king's eyes blazed as he stood mere steps from Thorin, his hand raised, poised to strike the dwarf again, and a deep frown set on his face.
A gasp escaped her lips before she could stop herself and a few of the guards' eyes shifted in surprise as they searched for the source of the noise. For it did not come from their dwarf captive.
He remained silent, though his eyes said more than enough.
Murderous rage swam beneath the blue orbs of Thorin Oakenshield's eyes.
"You try my patience Master Oakenshield," The elf king whispered dangerously his face mere inches from Thorin's, "Think ye that I am a mere simple fool? I know what you hunt. I know what it is you seek."
The king turned away from Thorin and paced back to his throne, clenching and unclenching his fists.
"Then you know why I seek what I seek," Thorin's deep voice carried far, even as he whispered the words, fury laced with each syllable.
"You are filled with revenge and anger and you bring a great evil with you," The elf king remarked, his face pulled into a frown. "This will only lead to your downfall. And Erebor will remain a lost cause."
Thorin visibly bristled at that remark and his eyes narrowed as he slowly rose to his feet to face the elf king.
"You know nothing of the suffering of my people. You know nothing of dragon fire and sorrow. The vengeance I feel is justified, Thranduil of the woodland realm."
And suddenly the elf king, Thranduil, was next to Thorin, inches from the dwarf's face once more. "Do not speak to me of dragon fire," The elf hissed, contempt written on his face, "I know its wrath and I have seen sorrow. Do not pretend that your plight is the only one deserving of pity."
Thorin raised his chin in defiance and glared back at Thranduil's tall, slender form hovering before him.
He had retreated to silence once more.
"You cannot pursue such a foolish mission," Thranduil's voice had gone soft. Dangerously soft.
"You cannot prevent me from securing my homeland," Thorin spat, "And what care do you hold for the dwarves anyway? You abandoned us in our hour of need."
Thorin said nothing, but his sight remained on Thranduil, commanding the elf's attention.
Lyla could hear the raw pain in his voice at the memory he'd just conjured.
The dwarves had been abandoned by the elves?
But why?
Thranduil's eyes flashed dangerously his brows knitting together in a deep seeded anger that made Lyla shudder. "Do not spew your petty judgment at me! I would not risk my kin against the wroth of that dragon. I had to protect my own. I abandoned no one." And then Thranduil reclined into his throne, his fingers curving around the arms rests tightly. He scoffed, "And it is not you that I claim to worry over. There are others in Middle Earth affected by an angered dragon. Do not forget Dale and all those innocents lost. There are many who would be affected by your hasty foolishness."
Thranduil leaned forward, his anger replaced by a deep curiosity. "Tell me how your actions will secure anything if that beast is released? How will you manage to ensure the safety of the men of Laketown? Of the elves within my woodland realm? Will they only be casualties for the greater good in your eyes?"
Thorin glared contemptuously back at Thranduil.
Lyla silently commended him for his stubbornness, even as she contemplated Thranduil's questions. How were they to protect innocent people against a dragon? Certainly Thorin had considered this.
Right?
"As it is," Thranduil continued flippantly, "I cannot allow your journey to continue until some sense has entered that head of yours."
Lyla's eyes narrowed in fury at the king's hasty ruling. How dare he!
"You cannot keep me here!" Thorin uttered viciously pulling at his bonds only to be physically restrained by the elf guardsmen surrounding him.
Thranduil scoffed again, "I can do whatever pleases me against those who trespass on my land."
The elf king waved his hand dismissively to one of the guards. "Take him back down. I can see this is a waste of time. Perhaps the darkness will open his eyes."
Lyla watched, with fury coursing through her veins, as the blindfold was tied once more across Thorin's eyes. The dwarf didn't protest as he was dragged forcefully away. And she would have followed after him, had not the elf Legolas and the red-haired female he'd been with earlier blocked her path.
Oh confusticate it all!
Bebother all of them!
The two elves paused at the bottom of the throne and bowed their head in respect.
Lyla fisted her hand in her mouth to keep from snorting in contempt. This king deserved no respect.
Not from Lyla at least.
She scowled at the haughty king.
"Tell me what troubles you. I sense your unease." Thranduil murmured, gazing off to his right. His eyes were sweeping over the room thoughtfully. And then he stopped, and narrowed his sapphire orbs.
Right where Lyla stood.
She took a step back, out of reflex, finding security (even while invisible) behind the pillar, creating a barrier between herself and the piercing blue gaze of the elf king. Did he suspect her presence?
Surely not.
Right?
"The dwarves are secure," Legolas remarked, his head still bowed in deference to Thranduil's superior status. Then he hesitated, "However, something...unusual has happened."
Thranduil's gaze flicked to the blonde dwarf and his red-haired companion in surprise.
"Tell me."
Legolas' face took on a thoughtful appearance as he turned his gaze up to the elf king who stood, expectantly before him.
"The spiders," He murmured, "They were dead when we came upon the company of dwarves and yet the dwarves were bound in the trees."
Thranduil's eyes narrowed, and Lyla sucked in her breath.
Waiting.
"It would appear," He muttered, "that the dwarves have a hidden ally. Double the guards if you must and set the watch to patrol the area to find this hidden...creature."